We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
In our part of the US Northeast, we have these seasons of recreation:
Winter:
- doing exciting things in NYC or Boston, cultural stuff or sports-watching - skiing if you can afford it - hiking if not too icy, or snow-shoeing - Paddle tennis - sweat when it's 10 degrees F, at night under lights - Deer hunting if you can stand the boredom ( I can not, but I like to eat them)
Spring:
- Planning or planting the damn gardens - why do we bother? - Fly fishing - Turkey hunting - Hikes
Summer:
- Boating, and saltwater fishing - Presidential Range hikes, with bugs - Weeding the f-ing gardens - Vacations on salt water or in the mountains, with swims - mowing the meadows in August - Outdoor tennis - just a wonderful joy - Skeet, trap, and clays - to get back into it
Fall:
- bird hunting, duck hunting - best time for mountain hiking - Fox hunting - for needed insane adrenaline - best time for Euroland trips - chain saw fun, and stocking up on firewood
Year-round
- horse-riding, indoors or out - Tennis, indoors or out
With a world-wide readership, what do you like? Or do you live in a place without seasons?
1994's "Dignity." I like the pounding rock version, but all I can find now is this rehearsal version for the MTV Unplugged recording.
I went down where the vultures feed I would’ve gone deeper, but there wasn’t any need Heard the tongues of angels and the tongues of men Wasn’t any difference to me...
Some great songs have an inevitability to them, as if they were not constructed but just discovered. The unforgettable lyrics here.
"Bob Dylan in 2018 demands that you be in the moment. If you go with him, you will experience 120 minutes as intense and rewarding as any Dylan-trip you ever went on as a teenager — when you first discovered the magic of his eternal poetry and his American exceptionalism..."
All the early Roman kings In their sharkskin suits Bow ties and buttons High top boots Drivin' the spikes in Blazin' the rails Nailed in their coffins In top hats and tails
Fly away, little bird Fly away, flap your wings Fly by night Like the early Roman kings
Bob in Waterbury (CT) last night. Beautiful new arrangements, the most mellow I've ever heard him live in 2 decades. Thoughtful on the piano.... just sharing these heartbreaking stories with us. Set list below.
Things Have Changed It Ain't Me Babe Highway 61 Simple Twist of Fate Cry Awhile When I Paint My Masterpiece Honest With Me Tryin' To Get To Heaven Scarlet Town Pay in Blood Make You Feel My Love Like a Rolling Stone Early Roman Kings Don't Think Twice, It's Alright Love Sick Thunder on the Mountain Soon After Midnight Gotta Serve Somebody All Along the Watchtower Blowin in the Wind
Bob does not shortchange you with songs in his almost nightly performances, even at age 77 or whatever. Here's part of a 4 year-old performance of his haunted Scarlet Town. "The seven wonders of the world are here" - genius - those wonders are everywhere:
Dylan never recorded this little ditty commercially. My guess is that he filled his sweet little tune with nonsense verse (as he has been known to do) until some good lyrics might emerge. Evidently, they did not.
There is no youtube for it, but this guy covered the tune.
A practice version of Idiot Wind from 1974. Final lyrics of this tough, pained song still evolving in this tape. He was not happy when Sarah dumped him and his kids to run off with some con-man. Doubt he ever really got over that.
"Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth..."
I got the pork chops, she got the pie She ain't no angel and neither am I Shame on your greed, shame on your wicked schemes I'll say this, I don't give a damn about your dreams...
From a bunch of articulate Dylan-appreciators at NR. "Following our trip through the music of The Beatles, we decide to tackle an artist who is just as important and influential, but with a discography roughly four times as long. What could go wrong? In this part one of three, we tackle Dylan’s career from Bob Dylan (1961) through John Wesley Harding (1967), one of the most prolific and successful periods of any artist in history."
On ageing, from 1997. It is gloomy, sad, but Bob is still on his Endless Tour today. "Steel" has two syllables if you didn't know about Dylanesque lyrical phrasing. Without an operatic voice, you have to handle genius phrasing.
Songs like this make me hope that, when the end times come, some of our culture will be preserved somehow. Likely not.
One of Bob's songs about his conversion to Christ. Not sure what religion he is on board with now, but this was a song with powerful, mythic lyrics.
Now the nature of man Is to beg and to steal I'd do it myself, It's not so unreal The call of the wild's Forever at my door Want me to fly like an eagle while Being chained to the floor...
My lad claims Clothes Line Rag was a parody of Ode to Billy Joe. That is astute. Lay Down Your Weary Tune is a lovely hymn. Listen to that cover. How many masterpieces has Dylan produced?
Bonus below: Lou Reed covering Foot of Pride. It's about pride and Jesus. Pride is the greatest sin, is it not? The foot of pride will getcha sooner or later and, once it comes down, your life is screwed without proper repentence and rebirth.
People often think the title is "The Road Less Traveled." Nope. Not a poem about how special we want to feel. Some of Frost's poems became so popular that they became cliches. The cranky SOB was a skilled marketer of his image, too. Anyway, I posted this poem today to note the ambiguity here: "the passing there had worn them really about the same." A random choice for a grassy path. Fate. Hard to know what metaphysical poets are really up to: What Gives Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” Its Power?
The poem isn’t a salute to can-do individualism; it’s a commentary on the self-deception we practice when constructing the story of our own lives. “The Road Not Taken” may be, as the critic Frank Lentricchia memorably put it, “the best example in all of American poetry of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” But we could go further: It may be the best example in all of American culture of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
In this it strongly resembles its creator...
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim Because it was grassy and wanted wear, Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
Walkin' down the line. This 1962 ditty has been covered by many, including by Arlo Guthrie at Woodstock. I don't know why anybody covers it. It's a simple piece.
Here's Bob with the Dead. Pickin' Jerry adds a lot of bounce to it, but I think Bob is drunk and gets the lyrics all screwed up. He's not perfect. Correct Lyrics here.
Jerry had such a laid-back taste with guitar, and his "singing" too. I love Jerry's relaxed picking.
Not one more night, not one more kiss, Not this time babe, no more of this, Takes too much skill, takes too much will, It's too revealing.
You came, you saw, just like the law You married young, just like your ma, You tried and tried, you made me slide You left me reelin' with this feelin'.
How often do you hear people say "I never lost 8 of the pounds I put on with my first kid" ? Clearly women do not need to be menopausal or post-menopausal to gain weight. Just look around at all the fat American women.
I think it matters in life to stay trim and strong, whether pre- or post-menopausal. You can be more athletic, agile, energetic, sexy, cheerful, and able to avoid many of the physical consequences of being overweight from plantar fasciitis and arthritis to breast cancer.
Plus it makes life more fun and you can wear better clothes. Except for those blessed with the right genes (physical and psychological), most people have to take deliberate responsibility for their level of fitness and, in the modern world of sedentary ease and carb abundance, it can be a challenge if you have an impulsive rather than obsessive-compulsive personality.
Is getting fat partly a socio-cultural phenomenon? Of course, but that's a more complicated subject than I wish to take on on Mother's Day. What about the middle-aged men making themselves pudgy? That's another sad topic too, but I believe that it is part of the duty of a wife to keep her man fit for life even if she "lets herself go". An obvious risk in that, though...
Post-menopausal women do have a greater chance of gaining weight even if they have been fit and shapely beforehand. It should not be used as an excuse, but the changes in sex hormones do alter fat storage and, seemingly, metabolic rate. Why nature designed it that way is a mystery, but nature has little need for post-menopausal females. Society needs them, but Mother Nature does not.
Generally speaking, post-menopausal women need far fewer carbs and less food in general than in youth almost entirely regardless of activity level. Another change is that the physical distribution of fat (from excess carb intake) changes in unhealthy and unattractive ways (unattractive in our culture, anyway).
He bought the house at 94 MacDougal St in the West Village but celeb-sniffers got the best of him. He was young, didn't realize that he was as famous as he was, a "prophet for a generation." He loved NYC the most but fled to privacy in Malibu and promptly set about proving that he wasn't any prophet. Then his wife dumped him and he crashed.
We know he still skulks around the Village alone and anonymously in a hoodie, when he's on tour in the area. Few people recognize the strange old little guy ducking into music joints and pubs. I would.
Manhattan Contrarian informs me that the interior of Dylan's old block contains a large private garden. Must be nice in there.
In our part of the US Northeast, we have these seasons of recreation:
How often do you hear people say "I never lost 8 of the pounds I put on with my first kid" ? Clearly women do not need to be menopausal or post-menopausal to gain weight. Just look around at all the fat American women.